My head is full of leaves
Love Letter Day 4 is a day late.
Day 4: You are so fucking beautiful.
Day 5: The indelible memory of leaves in transition and I think my sensibility for beauty has grown roots, as well.
Day 6: Now we tell the future. What is the future tense, the speculative declension, of beauty? Promises, fortunes, wishful thinking, the job to stay alive to keep my eyes and ears open, my mouth even wider till I am all throat.